Double Helix
by Winged Monkey
Summary: Enemies are back, Donatello is acting strange, and Leonardo suspects that there is much more here than first meets the eye. Little does the eldest turtle realize how right he is.
1. A Night on the Town

_A/N: Hi, everyone! Well, I'm finally posting another multi-chapter. Just so you are all aware, it is rated T for drug references and some mild swearing. Also, I cannot promise that I'll be able to update quickly due to the amount of school and work. Anyway, enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: The moment I own anything, I'll let you know.**

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Chapter 1: A Night on the Town

A stereotypically dark and stormy night would have been a much better atmosphere than the tepid humidity that clung to the air, to the brickwork, to anything that it could find a niche in which to reside. At least the air would explode in a torrent of expressive thunder and not just sit upon the city, smothering it. At least the lightning would flash and then return the world to darkness instead of holding the lights from the city and bathing everything in a sickly orange hue. At least the torrent of rain would fill the air with its pounding song instead of stifling every sound only to make the almost silent footfalls echo loudly in the ears of their makers.

Four wraiths darted across the skyline, silhouetted briefly against the sky's glow only to disappear moments later. Shadows detached themselves from walls and leapt across alleyways, daring some drunken bum beneath to glance up at just the wrong time and wonder to wonder if he had truly seen such impossible ghosts. Onwards they continued, even as the city below fell silent, as though it was sleeping off a drug-induced stupor. However, if one were to follow these apparitions in their journey, one would notice that one began to slow and fall behind the other three.

"Come on, Don, keep up," Leonardo chaffed as he slowed down to match speeds with his second youngest brother, allowing the other two turtles to pass them by.

"Sorry, Leo," came the reply. "I guess the weather's getting to me tonight."

"It certainly is strange for this time of year," the eldest agreed as they slowed to a halt. "I can't say I like it. Something about it just doesn't sit right in my bones."

Donatello rubbed his arm slightly. "I know. I feel like—"

"Hey come on, slowpokes!" Michelangelo interrupted from a neighboring rooftop, bouncing up and down, while waving his arms wildly. "We've got places to go! People to save! Raph to annoy!"

His bouncing was interrupted by a pseudo-terrified scream as he dodged the hot-headed turtle's attack.

Leonardo sighed and rolled his eyes. In a flash, the youngest turtle was hiding behind his shell. "Shh!" Leo admonished. "Sound's carrying much farther than normal tonight."

"Lighten up, Leo," Raphael insisted as he joined them. "It ain't like many people'll be out tonight. Even if they are, they ain't gonna see us. In fact," he darted around his older brother, "it's a perfect night for Tackle Mikey!"

Both Donatello and Leonardo shook their heads and laughed as their brothers chased each other around the rooftop. "Well, I guess this area's safe enough." The eldest turtle glanced around, assuring himself that there were no lights shining from the windows of the surrounding office buildings.

"Hey Leo," Donatello nudged his elder brother's elbow and pointed to the hose curled against the side of a shed. A grin flashed across Leonardo's face.

"Perfect." But in the brief moment that he glanced at the purple-clad turtle, Leonardo's face grew grave. "Are you alright, Don?"

Donatello looked down at the glistening sheen building up on his arms. "It's just sweat mixing with the humidity. I told you I didn't like this weather."

Leonardo frowned, taking note of his brother's excessively-enlarged pupils. "You sure that's all it is?"

"Leo," Don sounded a bit annoyed. "I'm fine. It's not like I've never sweated before."

Just then, Michelangelo leaped over Leonardo's head, using his shoulders as a springboard. Raphael merely managed to not crash into his older brother.

"That's it!" An intentionally-scary grin spread across Leonardo's face as he ran after his youngest brother. "I'm so getting you, Michelangelo."

"Just try and catch me, dude!" Mikey laughed back over his shoulder. "Raph's been trying for years and he hasn't caught me! You want to know why?"

"Don't you dare say it!" Raphael growled as he rushed forwards. Michelangelo easily darted out of his reach.

"It's 'cause I'm the Battle Nexus Champi—hey!" A blast of water caught him smack in the side of the head.

Raphael and Leonardo cracked up laughing as Michelangelo threw death-glares at them. "Dudes, you are _so_ getting it now! Don! You've got to be on my side!" He looked around the rooftop as the turtle in question did not answer. "Don?"

They all spun around, looking every direction, but Donatello was nowhere to be found.

"Don? Donnie?" Leonardo called. He ran over to the edge of the rooftop that he had last seen his missing brother by. Far below, he sighted his brother just as Don seemed to be hurriedly shoving something into his duffle bag. "Don! What are you doing down there?"

"Oh, sorry Leo," the purple-clad turtle called back up. "I thought I saw something that I could use down here, but it turns out that it's in too poor of condition for me to do anything with it."

Leonardo sighed and leaped down the three stories to the alleyway below. "Don't disappear like that, Don!"

"Sorry," the scientific turtle shrugged. "You guys were just having so much fun that I didn't want to interrupt you."

"Don, next time, don't worry about interrupting. I just want to make sure that you're safe." Leonardo reached out and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. It shook slightly. "Are you alright, bro?"

"I'm _fine_ Leo!" Donatello pulled away with something more than just annoyance flashing in his eyes. "No matter how many times you ask, the answer is the same!"

Leonardo crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed. "You are shaking like a leaf, Don. What is going on?"

"Absolutely nothing is 'going on'! Get off my case, will you?"

"Don, I'm worried about you," Leonardo insisted. "You're acting strange."

"Good grief, Leo!" Donatello turned away, throwing his hands up into the air. "What is your glitch? I've already told you several times that I'm fine! This wonky weather is the only thing that's having an effect on me right now!"

"Don—"

"Guys," Michelangelo interrupted once again, though this time his voice had an edge of fear, "you need to get up here!"

Leonardo sighed. "We _will_ discuss this later."

Donatello grumbled something inaudible as his brother pointed up the building's fire escape. In a matter of seconds, both of the turtles landed on the rooftop next to Raphael and Michelangelo. The moment he saw the reason for his youngest brother's call for help, Leonardo tensed and drew his swords.

"Hello there, little turtle men," a dreaded voice called as a man in a white suit stepped forwards, closely followed by a man whose resemblance to a mountain rivaled that of Hun himself.

"It is so delightful to see all of the brothers together, is it not, Mr. Touch?"

"Indeed it is, Mr. Go."

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Da-da-da-duuuuummmmm... yes a cliffie. Surprised? No? Ah, well. Please leave me a review! Flames will be used to burn my political science homework!


	2. Touch and Go

_A/N: Aw, thanks! You are all so sweet!_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing more than a plot**

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Before any of the turtles had a chance to react, Mr. Go darted forwards and slammed into Michelangelo with a swift uppercut to the jaw. As the youngest turtle stumbled backwards, the others attacked.

Raphael tried to block Mr. Touch's punch, but he was knocked onto his shell. He rolled to the side, barely dodging the behemoth's fist as it slammed into the concrete. Suddenly, Mr. Touch stumbled forwards as Michelangelo landed squarely on the back of his neck and then sprung away, ending up next to Raphael.

"You okay, Mike?"

"It's going to take more than just a tap from Twinkletoes to keep me down!" He smiled.

They both backflipped away as a monstrous fist rushed towards them.

"So these're the goons you an' Leo ran into?"

"Yeah." Michelangelo slid between Mr. Touch's legs, dodging a blow. "Aren't they even uglier in person?"

The giant growled as the youngest again dodged him.

"And what's with the suits?" He stepped back, again dodging a punch, and made a snobby face. "Only the most couture of villains can pull off the many suits of the infamous James Bond." He laughed gleefully as he bounded again out of the enraged man's reach.

Raphael fought back the urge to laugh along with his brother as he delivered a kick on the back of Mr. Touch's knee. However, his good humor quickly faded as it had no effect. Mr. Touch spun back around just as Raphael was about to stab his knee with a sai and grabbed the turtle's hand. As easily as if he weighed nothing, Raphael was spun around like a rag doll. Michelangelo's eyes opened wide as his brother crashed into his side.

Michelangelo groaned as Raphael rolled off of him. "You okay, bro?"

Mikey closed his eyes and grimaced. "Do me a favor and don't do that again. I feel like I was hit by a bag of bricks!"

With anger in his eyes, Raphael jumped back onto his feet and spun a sai around as Mr. Touch approached.

On the other side of the roof, Mr. Go was spinning his cane like a bo staff, blocking as twin katana sliced down towards his head. A knee caught the blue-banded turtle in the chest and he stumbled backwards. As the end of Donatello's bo shot towards his midriff, the man sprung up over it and its master. He caught Don's head between his knees on the way back down and flung the turtle across the rooftop. Donatello landed in a heap on top of Michelangelo.

Mr. Touch and Mr. Go simultaneously leapt away from their remaining opponents and backed towards each other.

Leonardo started to run after Mr. Go. "Raph! We've got to keep them from recharging!"

"Recharging?" Mr. Go scoffed, "no, my dear little turtle man. Our new employer has provided us with certain…_modifications_ that allow us to remain 'charged up,' as you would say, for as long as we wish. Shall we show them the extent of our new power, Mr. Touch?"

"I do believe it is time, Mr. Go."

Michelangelo and Donatello untangled themselves just in time to see both of their brothers go flying in opposite directions. Mr. Go spun his cane around again and then pressed a button on the top of the bronze pommel. A long blade shot out of the end. Mr. Touch slammed his fists together and they started to glow brightly.

Michelangelo's jaw dropped. "Duuuuuuuuuude. This is new."

Without uttering another word, the two men sped towards the youngest turtles.

Michelangelo spun his nunchuku and leapt backwards, barely avoiding the pommel of Mr. Go's cane. Without even a break in movement, Mr. Go spun back around and the bronze ball caught the youngest turtle in the fleshy strip between his shell and plastron. Michelangelo stumbled sideways. Suddenly, Mr. Go's actions mimicked those of the youngest turtle's as Raphael slammed into the man with both feet. Recovering almost instantaneously, Mr. Go surged back towards the turtles, knocking them both over. Raphael tumbled backwards, but Michelangelo jumped back up and swung his nunchuck towards Mr. Go's head. The man avoided it easily.

"What's the matter, Michelangelo? No more of your witty remarks?"

Michelangelo gritted his teeth in pain as the cane's pommel again slammed into him.

Enraged, Raphael lunged towards the man, stabbing his sai where Mr. Go's head had been only milliseconds before. With a smug grin, Mr. Go swung the cane around again, catching the older turtle in the jaw and then again on the right bicep. With a cry of pain, Raphael dropped his sai.

Hearing his brother's yell, Leonardo turned momentarily from Mr. Touch, only for a fist to slam into his shell, knocking him to the ground. He lifted his katana just in time to block another blow that was aimed at his head. Seeing his opportunity, Donatello leapt up and slammed his bo down on Mr. Touch's head. The bo splintered upon impact. Mr. Touch laughed and spun around, catching Donatello by surprise as a giant fist smashed into his chest. The turtle crumpled up in pain.

With a grin, Mr. Touch stepped back from his opponents. Mr. Go did the same.

"It seems like the turtle brothers have wearied of us, Mr. Go."

"Indeed it does, my dear Mr. Touch. Truly a pity."

"Should we leave, Mr. Go?"

"We would be very rude guests if we did not leave our esteemed hosts with something to remember us by."

"Indeed. That _would_ be quite rude of us. Forgive me for not being appropriately considerate."

"My dear Mr. Touch, there is nothing to forgive."

Raphael picked his sai back up, noting with relief that the others were also returning to defensive stances. "Yo! Twinkletoes an' Cinderblock! It's gonna be us that gives you somethin' to remember _us_ by."

"Would you care to do the honors, Mr. Go?"

"I would be delighted, Mr. Touch."

At an impossible speed, Mr. Go darted straight towards Donatello; the blade-end of his cane gleamed wickedly as it was hurriedly blocked by a katana as Leonardo jumped in front of his brother. Without slowing for a moment, Mr. Go leapt up over the eldest turtle's head, holding the blade out in front. Donatello tried to block with the splintered stub of his bo. The blade angled, avoiding the wood, and sliced down the turtle's arm.

Donatello screamed and fell to his knees, clutching the wound as his elbow pad fell next to him.

Not about to let the man get away with hurting their brother, Leonardo swung his katana rapidly, feeling his speed increase with every passing, enraging second. Michelangelo scampered to Donatello's side as Raphael went after Mr. Touch.

"Don! Are you okay?"

Donatello groaned and tightened the grip on his arm. "I'll be fine, but it sure hurts like shell."

"Dude, you're bleeding, like, a lot."

"Yeah…" Donatello closed his eyes and grimaced.

"Don! Don't pass out!"

"I'm not passing out," the injured turtle griped, "so stop yelling. I need you to help me get this bandaged."

Michelangelo pulled off one of his elbow pads and pressed it against his brother's wound. Donatello winced at the pressure but took over from Mikey as the younger turtle began to unwrap his other elbow pad. Carefully, the cloth was wrapped around the wound, pressing the jagged edges together. Even so, blood was still managing to seep out.

"We've got to get you back to the lair, Don." Mikey stared at the arm anxiously.

Donatello sighed. "I'll be fine, Mike. Thanks, but you can stop panicking." He gritted his teeth. "Let them finish."

Michelangelo glanced over his shoulder as Mr. Go's cane once again clanged against Leonardo's katana. Somehow, the turtle seemed to be fighting at an even faster rate than before. The man swung downwards and Leonardo blocked it with one katana. All of a sudden, the turtle brought the other katana around at an incredible rate.

Michelangelo gasped and closed his eyes. A second later, he allowed himself to peak, expecting to see a decapitated head rolling along the rooftop. Instead, Mr. Go was standing some distance from the eldest, a long, red slash graced his cheek partially masked by the gloved hand held to it.

"Time to go, Mr. Touch!"

Mr. Touch stopped in mid-punch, turning slightly to look at his partner. It was all that Raphael needed. He leapt up and slammed both feet into Mr. Touch's head. The giant tumbled backwards.

"Indeed it is, Mr. Go."

Mr. Touch zoomed to his partner and grabbed his hand. In a shimmer of light, they disappeared right in front of the turtle's eyes.

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_So how was that? Action-y enough? Please tell me in a review! Flames will be used to warm up my toes._


	3. Strange Markings

_A/N: Sorry about the wait. Two midterms and a final really cut into the time I have for writing. The first part is pretty much filler, but it gets better as it goes on, so please bear with me _:-)

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything more than an excessive number of plot bunnies**

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Even as a slight shimmer hung in the air from where the two assassins had vanished, Leonardo sliced through it. He took deep breath; it had been a long time since something had angered him this much. Forcing his body to slow back down to its normal rate, he sheathed his katana and turned back to his younger brothers. "Don, how bad is it?"

"Judging by the blood flow, I think my brachial might have been nicked, but I'll live."

Leonardo knelt down next to Michelangelo and surveyed the youngest's handiwork. "Good job with the bandage, Mikey." He set a hand on his brother's shoulder. Michelangelo beamed him a smile.

Raphael walked up behind them, rubbing his arm where Mr. Go had struck him. A large bruise was forming on his jaw.

"You okay, Raph?" Leonardo asked without turning around. "Anything broken?"

Raphael grunted. "Dn't thnk nuthn' brkn."

With a sigh, Leonardo shook his head at his brother's stubbornness. "We'll take a look at your jaw when we get home. Don, can you walk?"

"It's just my arm that's hurt, Leo. It's not like they even touched my legs." Donatello pushed himself up, but even as he moved his arm slightly, blood began to leak through the make-shift bandage. He glared at Leonardo as the blue-clad turtle stared anxiously at the blood. "Look, I've had worse. Shell, _you_ have had about ten time's worse. Lighten up!"

As he leaped down onto the fire escape, Leonardo and Raphael exchanged a look and then turned to Michelangelo. He shrugged.

"Raph, when we get home, have Sensei look at your jaw. I'll get Don patched up so he can come help."

"I'll help, Leo."

"Thanks, Mike, but you almost threw up last time anyone had to get stitches. I really don't want to have to clean that up again." Both of the older turtles shuddered as they followed Donatello down into the alley below.

"It's not _my_ fault Raphie had totally gross pussy stuff coming outa him!" Michelangelo retorted before leaping after them.

Ignoring him, Leonardo pried open a manhole cover. "Mikey, you go first. Make sure that Don and Raph don't hurt themselves when they come down."

All three of the other turtles rolled their eyes. "Mother hen Leo strikes again!" Mikey whispered in Raphael's ear. The hot-headed turtle guffawed for an instant and then clutched his jaw in pain.

"Mikey…"

"Ok, ok, Leo! Don't get your shell in a twist!" The youngest turtle backflipped into the sewer.

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Almost a half hour later, the four brothers went their own ways: Leonardo and Donatello to the medic center in the scientific turtle's lab, Raphael and Michelangelo to find Master Splinter. As Donatello sat down on the cot, his brother filled an electric kettle with water from a bottle of purified water.

"This is going to hurt, Don. Do we have any local anesthetic that we can put on your arm?"

"Not really…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we have a very small amount, but I'd rather save it for something a little more serious."

"You sure?"

Donatello gave Leonardo a withering look. "Just pass the bottle of aspirin."

Leonardo shook out a couple of the pills and handed them to his brother. While the other turtle swallowed them, he pulled out the necessary supplies from the cabinet, and poured the boiling water into a bowl. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up."

Donatello suddenly looked very nervous. "I-it's okay, Leo. I'll clean the wound myself while you sterilize the needle."

"Don, you and I both know that's not a good idea." The elder turtle dipped a cloth into the water and sat down on the side of the injured arm. He began to unwrap the bandage.

Donatello yanked his arm away, immediately regretting it as pain shot all along it.

"Something wrong, Don?" A hurt expression crossed Leonardo's face. "If you want someone else stitching you up, just say so. I'll go get Sensei for you if you want."

"No…no…I, um, just go ahead."

"Don, I think you might need more than just aspirin. Look, if this is about earlier—"

"NO!"

Leonardo sat back, startled.

"Sorry, no, it's not. Maybe you're right and I do need more than just aspirin, but I don't want to take anything unless I _absolutely_ have no other choice. That stuff's almost impossible to find."

"Well, if you're sure…"

Donatello nodded his head in assurance.

As carefully as he could, Leonardo unwrapped the injured arm. Both dried and fresh blood covered most of the arm around the lesion. Lifting the cloth out of the warm water, he began to clean the area. Donatello hissed as the cloth passed over the top of the slice. The older turtle pulled the cloth away. With a slight motion of his head, Donatello indicated that Leonardo was to continue.

After a short while, the water in the bowl sloshed a bloody red as Leonardo took it to the bathroom to empty it out. With his brother gone, Donatello allowed himself to look at the injury. To his relief, the skin was sliced smoothly and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Slowly and gently, he moved so that he could see it more closely. He gulped nervously.

_They_ were still there.

It would be an absolute miracle if Leonardo somehow missed seeing them—a highly unlikely miracle.

"Everything alright, Don?"

Donatello jumped as Leonardo came back into the medic center. "Um, yeah. I was just checking the edges. Looks like I should heal just fine, maybe even without stitches, if I just re-bandage it; the wound is thin enough and the skin is close enough together that stitches are not even necessary."

"Then what exactly do you suggest?" Leonardo raised his eyeridge. "We don't have any of the other things that we could use instead and Go sliced pretty deep into you. If it was any of the rest of us in your situation, you would insist on stitches."

"Really, I highly doubt that stitches will be at all necessary."

"Let me see." The older turtle sat back down on the cot and tried to look at his brother's arm but Donatello pulled it away. "Don, either you let me examine it or I'll get Mikey and Raph to help me hold you so that Master Splinter can examine it. Your choice."

Donatello's eyes widened for a brief second. There would be no way that the ancient rat would miss _them_. And at least Leo might be persuaded to keep his secret… "Okay, okay, sheesh! Here." With the help of his other arm, he lifted the injured arm back towards Leonardo.

The blue-clad turtle began to look closely at the arm. A moment later, as Leonardo sat back with a look somewhere between puzzlement and disappointment etched on his face, Donatello could feel his heart drop down into his stomach.

"Don, what are all of these marks by the inside of your elbow?"

"You mean the rash-like thing?" Donatello could feel himself start to sweat. Well I accidently got into this stuff at the junkyard a few days ago and—"

"No, Don," the older turtle interrupted sternly. "These pock-marks."

"You see the rash—"

"I've seen marks like this before, Don, though only on drug addicts. Don't try to pretend they aren't there. They're from a hypodermic needle."

"Oh, those…"

"Yes, those."

"Those are from tetanus shots. They're so old that I almost forgot about them."

"Why would you need so many tetanus shots? And some of these look fresh."

"Really, they aren't. Can we just stitch up my arm and get it over with?"

Leonardo set his brother's arm down and crossed his own arms in front of his chest. "You didn't want stitches, remember? Did you just not want me to see those marks?"

"No, it's just that I changed my mind. You're right; it is deep enough that it needs stitches."

"Don, why do you keep lying to me? Is_ this_ why you've been acting strange? Is this what you were doing earlier in the alley: injecting yourself?"

"No! I told you, I wasn't doing anything!"

The older turtle uncrossed his arms with a sigh and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Don, listen. I'm not going to pass judgment on you and I won't even tell the others if you don't want me to, but I want you to be safe. Please don't lie to me. I just want to help. Are you taking any, well…controlled substances?"

"Absolutely not!" Donatello jumped up off of the cot and ran towards the lab door even as the blood rushed from his head.

"Don! Don, wait!" Leonardo ran after him, entering the hallway just as Donatello's door slammed closed.

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_Please leave a review! Flames will be used to warm my toes._


	4. Losing Hours

_A/N: Thanks, everyone, for all of your reviews! You're all so sweet._

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything**

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"Don, please open up!"

Sitting with his back against the door, Donatello tried to ignore his brother's pounding that was somehow in sync with the pounding inside of his own head. He had almost told Leonardo but… He sighed. _They _can't _know. They just can't!_ Blood was starting to once again ooze from the wound. Even sitting still, he felt as though he was falling backwards into the door.

"Come on, Don. I just want to talk."

"Leo? What's going on?"

Donatello's eyes opened widely. Of all his brothers, Michelangelo was the absolute last turtle that he would want to know.

"Nothing, Mike. Don just chickened out of getting stitches."

Michelangelo laughed. "Don't blame him. Stitches are just _soooo_ awful! Here, let me talk to him. No one can resist my powers of utter cuteness!"

Donatello could just imagine the conniving look that would be crossing his youngest brother's face.

"I don't think that would be a good idea just now."

"Aww!"

Donatello released his breath, scarcely daring to believe that Leonardo had actually covered for him.

"Let's just leave Don in peace for now until he's ready to get better."

The relief that had washed over him vanished as Donatello heard Leonardo's cryptic message. The room around him began to spin faster and, to make matters worse, his skin was tingling as though thousands of ants had designated him as their new favorite hangout.

As he moved his head to look down at his body, gravity seemed to shift, pulling him sideways one moment and then forwards the next. It was only by steadying himself against the door that Donatello knew that he was still upright.

With his good hand, he rubbed his eyes. He could have sworn he just saw part of the skin on his leg bulge out and then disappear again. After taking a deep breath, he leaned his head back against the door. Somewhere behind him, he could vaguely hear his brothers talking but they were almost silent in comparison with the thumping of his heart and the ringing in his ears.

_It must have mostly come out when my arm was sliced, _he realized._ Not enough time for it to be absorbed. _

With as much stability as he could muster, Donatello pushed himself up off of the floor and stumbled towards his dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and grabbed a zip-top bag from under some papers. He tore it open and pulled out the sterile syringe that he had pre-filled specifically for this type of emergency. Leaning against the side of the dresser, he carefully pressed the needle into his upper leg and emptied the contents into his blood stream. Even as he shoved the empty syringe back under the papers, he could feel the liquid coursing through his veins, surging, pulsing.

The skin around his wound burned like a chemical fire.

Donatello clutched at his arm, subconsciously aware of the precious life-source that was slowly squeezing through his fingers. Heknew that his brain was telling him that this should alarm him, but his body was detached, almost as if he wasn't even there. After what felt like an eternity, his mind managed to break through the fog and he stepped away from the dresser towards the first aid kit he kept on the other side of the room.

As he made that simple movement, the room around him went black and he fell to the floor.

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Donatello groaned slightly as light poured in through the tiny slit between his eyelids. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying on his back and he was…restrained? No, tucked into bed with his sheets wrapped around his legs and lower torso. However, he couldn't figure out how he had gotten there or even how long he had been unconscious.

His head pounded as he opened his eyes, allowing the dim light to assault his pupils. Had it all been a dream? Another nightmare? No, he could feel the bandages wrapped tightly around his arm. _Wait!_ his mind protested. _Bandages? _He tried to lift his arm up to where he could see it more clearly but hissed as pain shot up through his shoulder.

"I wouldn't move that for a while," a voice said from beside him.

Donatello turned his head to see his oldest brother sitting backwards in a chair next to his bed, staring off to a far corner of the room.

"W-what happened?"

"I don't know, Don. I was kind of hoping that you could tell me." There was no mistaking the worried tone of Leonardo's voice. "You were out for almost two hours."

"Two hours?" Donatello repeated as he turned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "What did the others say?"

"I told them that you went into shock and just needed to rest."

"Oh." There was silence in the room. "Leo?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks. Thanks for covering for me."

"Don't mention it. But Don," the younger turtle could feel his brother's intense gaze turn and burn into the side of his head, "you've got to tell me what's going on."

Donatello sighed and turned his head away from his brother. He wasn't nearly as woozy as before, but he still didn't trust himself enough to come up with a convincing lie. Beside him, Leonardo shifted slightly in the chair. The creaking of the wood seemed amplified in the strange silence that pervaded the lair.

"How's Raph?"

Leonardo smiled sadly at his brother's attempt to change subjects. "Bruised, but nothing broken. You missed out on seeing Mikey getting grounded for making Raph yell at him. They're both in bed now so you don't need to worry about prying ears. Please, Don, I just want to help."

"I know, Leo, it's just…I dunno…"

"I'm not going to judge you, no matter what you tell me. I'll still love you. We'll still be brothers. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"I-it's just" Leonardo's voice cracked, "I don't want to lose you, Don."

"You _won't_, Leo. Really. I'll be fine again within the hour."

"But what if you're _not_. You were barely even breathing when I found you."

"Leo, I'm sorry. I really am. I-I didn't mean to scare you." Donatello sighed again as he imagined his brother panicking as he found him unconscious. "It had been too long between doses and my body was simply reacting to that."

"You went into withdrawal?"

"In a way, I guess. It's more of a full body shut-down."

"Don, you've got to get off of whatever this stuff is that you're on before you really _do_ go into a full body shut-down."

Inwardly, Donatello groaned. There would be no way that he could keep this from Leonardo now. "I can't stop using it, Leo. It's the only thing _keeping_ me _from_ a complete system overload, if you will."

"Look bro, I know that it seems that way now, but—"

"Leo," Donatello interrupted, annoyance starting to bubble up in his chest, "If I don't take it, I. Will. Die."

"I've seen people on withdrawal, Donatello." The younger turtle started at the use of his full name. "I know it can make you feel like you're dying and make your body do all sorts of weird things, but if you don't quit this addiction of yours, you really will die and I don't think either of us want to know what that would do to Mikey and Raph, not to mention Sensei."

"Leo, it's not like that. It's just—"

"You have the most brilliant mind out of anyone on the planet. How could you even consider doing something like this to yourself?" Leonardo struggled to keep his voice low, not daring to wake the others.

"Just listen for half of a millisecond, will you?" Donatello snapped, turning his head back to his brother, noting the agony behind Leonardo's eyes as the older turtle closed his mouth. "I'm not taking this drug to get on any sort of high. I'm not taking it to enhance my body. I'm sick, Leo. I've been sick for years now and that's my medicine! I didn't want to worry you guys so I just didn't tell you."

Leonardo turned his gaze away, unsuccessfully trying to hide the hurt on his face. "I wish you had told me, Don. Then I would have been trying everything in my power to make you better. How bad is it? Could it become contagious?"

"It could be passed through a dirty needle, but I've been very careful. I would never infect any of you. But…" Donatello shifted uncomfortably, "it may already be too late for me. If my calculations are correct, then I will be lucky to live another six years."

* * *

_Aaaaand now everyone who guessed that Don is sick and not just taking drugs can do a big 'I told you so!' Anyway, please leave a review. Flames will be used to make me actually want to write this stupid presentation for my Medical Interpreting class..._


	5. From the Inside

_A/N: Hi, everyone. Aw, you're all so sweet. Thanks for all the awesome reviews! Sorry this chapter took a bit to get out. Homework seriously puts a damper on the amount of writing time I have. _

**Disclaimer: I will let you know the moment I own anything other than this plot**

* * *

"Six years? Don, why did you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell _me_?"

"I wanted to, Leo, but…" Donatello bit his lip as he closed his eyes, begging the frightened tears to remain in their ducts. After a deep breath, he opened his eyes once more.

"I-it's okay, Donnie." The older turtle's shoulders shook violently as he tried to hold back the torrent of emotion threatening to break loose. "What is it, exactly, that we're up against here? AIDS? Hepatitis?"

Donatello chuckled darkly. "I almost wish it was that simple. This disease it totally exclusive to me."

"But it could spread?"

"Not unless you guys somehow get some of my blood inside of you and have the exact same reaction as I did to the mutagen."

"Mutagen?"

"Remember Bishop's outbreak a couple years ago?"

"How could I forget? We almost lost you when you were…_sick_." Realization hit Leonardo as he straightened up in the chair. "You're having a relapse?"

Donatello nodded in affirmation.

"But the cure…?"

"Only worked partially on me. The TCRI mutagen in our DNA had an adverse reaction with the cure, effectively diluting it to the point that it only postpones the break-down of genetic material that Bishop's mutagen caused."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that I will keep having relapses until my body just gives out. I will turn into a monster for a short time and then effectively disintegrate." Carefully, Donatello pushed himself up to a sitting position, allowing his shoulders to slump forwards.

"What if you got a highly concentrated dose of the cure? Would that be enough to knock it out of you?"

"Unfortunately, no. Somehow, I'm developing a resistance to it. When the relapses first started to happen and I figured out what was going on, I would only need to take the cure once every several months. Now it's almost weekly."

"How about other chemicals?"

"I-I've tried everything I could think of, but none of my experiments have been successful."

"So what, we just have to sit and wait for the end?"

Donatello shrugged hopelessly. "What other choice do I have?" He rubbed his injured arm gently and bit his lower lip once more. "Leo, I'm scared. I don't want to die."

Leonardo got up off of the chair and sat down on the edge of his sibling's bed. He pulled Donatello into his arms, feeling the younger turtle shaking in his grasp. "I know, Donnie. I don't want you to die either." He held his younger brother tightly for a moment and then laid him back upon the pillow. Softly, he wiped the tear of Donatello's cheek.

Without his mask on, Donatello looked so much younger, so much more vulnerable than his normal confident and mature self. Leonardo could not recall a time when he had seen Donatello so frightened—of all of them, he was usually the one to see through nightmares that tortured their lives.

But not this time.

This time, the nightmares could not be chased away.

Leonardo tried to smile, but the closest he got was a corner of his mouth pulled upwards for a brief second. He rubbed Donatello's uninjured hand. "Sleep, Don. It will do you good."

"M'kay," the younger turtle mumbled, closing his eyes.

Leonardo stayed on the edge of the bed, rubbing Donatello's hand until his sibling's breath slowed and lengthened. Standing up, he readjusted the blankets then silently made his way to the door. As his hand grasped the door handle for a brief moment, he turned and looked back at the sleeping form. "Good night, Don. There will always be a choice." The door closed with a click.

A few minutes later, Leonardo sat in the lotus position on his meditation mat. There was just too much to think about to even consider sleeping. _Six years, Don? Twenty-five is way too young. There's got to be something…anything. Please…just something…_ Leonardo's body began to again shake violently. He leaned forwards, put his face in his hands, and did something he had not done for many years.

He cried.

* * *

The next morning, Leonardo was uncharacteristically late to the breakfast table. Even under his mask, the dark circles around his eyes were blatantly obvious to everyone.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm sorry that I'm late, Sensei."

"Are you alright, my son?"

"I'm fine." Leonardo started the electric kettle and pulled out a teacup and some tea. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Dude, you should just do what I do when I can't sleep," Michelangelo beamed as he shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "Just come down and get some chocolate. Or cheese puffs. Or chocolate _and_ cheese puffs. Yuuuuuum." A look of pure bliss crossed his face as Raphael stared at him in disgust.

"Mikey, that's gross."

Michelangelo stuck his tongue out. "You just don't have a sophisticated enough pallet to truly appreciate it, Raph."

"Whatever, dipstick." He poked dubiously at his watery oatmeal. "Master Splinter, do I gotta eat this?"

"Until your jaw is more fully healed, you cannot eat 'crunchy' foods such as cereal or toast, Raphael," the rat replied, standing up, taking his cup of tea with him. "I will be in meditation. We will begin morning training in one half of an hour."

"Hai, Sensei," the four turtles chorused.

As his master left the kitchen, Leonardo sat down, cradling his cup of steaming tea. For a brief moment, he caught Donatello's eye, but the younger turtle broke the gaze almost immediately, pretending to ignore any part of the world that was not contained within his coffee mug.

Unable to bear the silence any more, Michelangelo stared intently at his oldest brother. "Okay, Leo, what's the real reason you look like you've just been through a blender."

Leonardo smiled and shook his head with a small chuckle. "Honestly, I just didn't sleep well last night. I guess there was just too much adrenaline left in my bloodstream to allow me to really rest."

Standing just out of sight around the corner of the kitchen door, Master Splinter grinned as he listened to his youngest son grill his oldest.

There once had been a time when Leonardo would come to him about anything, and Splinter liked to believe that he still would, but the rat also realized that such times had been occurring less and less frequently as his son chose instead to bear the burden on his own. Now, he was more likely to open up to one of his brothers than to 'worry' his father.

The topic in the kitchen changed to a one-sided discussion on comic books as Michelangelo apparently was finally satisfied with Leonardo's answer.

Splinter shook his head in mild amusement and walked silently to his room. Once inside, he seated himself upon his _tatami_ and stared blankly down at the tea swirling in the porcelain cup, forming ripples for a moment until all became still.

There was something, he could not quite place what, that was bothering him. It was almost an unsettled feeling deep within his bowels.

But there was one thing that he knew for certain: if Leonardo was concerned enough about something to lose sleep and not even be able to meditate to refresh his body, then there was something seriously wrong.

* * *

_Annnnd insert Beethoven's Fifth here. Please review! Flames will be used to dry my socks._


	6. The Coming Storm

_A/N: Again, thank you all! Happy Veterans' Day! Not one of my better chapters, but I hope you enjoy it anyway._

**Disclaimer: Seriously, if I owned, do you think I'd really be writing here instead of putting it on TV?**

* * *

By the time two days had passed, the rest of the small family had all but forgotten the incident of Leonardo's tardiness. That is, all save for Donatello. It seemed that every time he turned around, Leonardo was somewhere near him, sometimes within eyesight, sometimes not, but there was no doubt that he was there. For a turtle who liked to be left alone more often than not, this forced companionship, this _babysitting,_ was quickly becoming annoying.

As he looked down at the reflective surface of the beaker in front of him, Donatello sighed as he recognized the form of his brother behind him. "Leo, nothing's going to happen right this very second. I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me work in peace!"

Leonardo stopped his entrance to the area, standing awkwardly at the base of the step. "I was just thinking…you've said before that I'm a compatible blood donor for you."

"That's right." Donatello turned around in his chair to face his brother directly. "What of it?"

"Do you think if you had a large enough dose of clean blood that it would be able to allow your body to knock this thing out of you?"

Donatello's shoulders dropped slightly. "The mutagen didn't just affect my blood, but also the tissues." He absently rubbed the bandaged arm. "Anyway, I would need to completely remove _all_ of my blood at the same time and have it completely replaced otherwise the blood would merely contaminate the new blood. That means that I would have to have an equal amount of blood put back into my body. The only way to do that would be to use all of the donor blood. There's no way that I would do that."

"Oh…"

"And don't even think about suggesting that you'd do it, Leo." Donatello gave his brother a mild glare. "There's not even a guarantee that would work."

"Fine, fine." Leonardo turned around and sat on the step. "How about dialysis?"

"Leo, we don't have the equipment for dialysis and I have no idea how to make it."

"I could steal it for you," the older turtle suggested, his voice barely over a whisper.

With a small sigh, Donatello pushed himself off of the chair, moving to sit next to his oldest brother. "Don't, Leo. Don't go trying to get your hopes up."

"But would it work?"

"No…" Donatello stared off into the main living area where Michelangelo was perched on the back of the couch, a game controller tightly clutched in his hand. "The only thing that would work would be if every single molecule in my body was replaced. There's just no way for me to be cured."

Leonardo followed his brother's gaze. "What about the others? They should know."

"No!" Donatello whipped his head around, his emphatic response startling Leonardo. "No…not yet. It's bad enough that you're going to be freaking out that every time I turn around something might happen. I don't think they could handle that. Mikey especially."

"But Splinter—"

"Maybe after another year."

"He should know."

"I know…but Leo?"

"Hm?"

"Please don't tell him yet. Please promise me you'll keep this a secret."

"Don…"

"Please, Leo."

Their eyes met for a brief moment, contact broken almost immediately as Leonardo hung his head slightly. "Alright, but only for a year and if something happens, then they have the right to know."

"If something happens, contact Leatherhead. He has an extra containment unit and plenty of tranquilizers left."

"Don, I refuse to let 'something' happen."

"I-I know, but…" Donatello sighed and stood up. "There's nothing to do but wait for the end." He sat back down in his work chair. "In the meantime, _please_ let me get this done."

Without another word, Leonardo left the step and walked aimlessly towards the dojo. To his relief, the area was empty and relatively peaceful. Only the electronic music from Michelangelo's video games permeated the quiet.

The turtle inhaled deeply and withdrew his swords. He allowed his muscles to pull him though the familiar kata, pretending that the curved blades were slicing through the hopelessness that bound his heart and stomach instead of merely sliding through the air.

"Something is troubling you, my son."

Leonardo chided himself for almost jumping out of his shell as Master Splinter seemed to materialize in the corner of his vision. Lowering the _kissaki _until they almost dragged upon the floor, the turtle hung his head slightly. He did not trust himself enough to come up with some excuse to alleviate his master's concern. "It's nothing, Sensei."

"If it is nothing, why does it disquiet you so?"

The turtle flinched.

"Leonardo, kneel." The turtle dropped to his knees, still clutching the katana _tsuka_. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders as he felt a warm, furry hand gently rub the top of his head. "There is no need to blame yourself for your brothers' injuries, Leonardo. You did what you could and thankfully no real harm came of it."

"Not yet, anyway," Leonardo muttered, his voice barely even a whisper.

"Hm?"

Leonardo did not bother to clarify. "I should have expected it. I should have done more."

"From what your brothers have told me, you did very well and I am proud that you were able to fight as you did." From somewhere in the background, muffled by the sound of Michelangelo's music, Donatello's voice called out.

"Thank you, Sensei." Leonardo bowed farther before standing back up and sheathing his katana. "Would you please excuse me?"

As the rat nodded his head in affirmation, Leonardo trotted out of the dojo, leaving his master to wonder if they had been discussing the same thing.

The oldest turtle glanced around the lair, furrowing his brows as he realized that Donatello was no longer in his laboratory. With apprehension starting to bubble up, he took a few steps back so that he was directly behind the couch.

"Mikey, did Don say something?

"Oh, yeah, Leo," the younger turtle didn't bother pausing the game.

Mentally, Leonardo slapped his forehead. "Do you know what he said?"

"He said he's going to the junkyard."

"Okay, thanks."

* * *

Donatello looked cautiously around the junkyard before daring to step out into the sickly moonlight that was attempting to bathe the piles of junk with the light that had somehow managed to worm its way through the smog. After determining that it was safe, he darted towards another pile and picked up a toaster. Giving it a quick once-over, he shoved it into his very bulky-looking duffle.

Suddenly, he straightened. "Leo, come out."

"What gave me away?"

Donatello jumped as Leonardo stepped out of the shadows right in front of him. "To tell the truth, it was a total guess. You know if you keep acting like this the others will suspect that something's wrong."

"But something _is_ wrong!"

"Leo," Donatello threw his hands up in exasperation, "we went over this. We, or rather, _I_ don't want them to know. Try being ninja about it!"

"It's not only that, Don. You're still hurt from the last fight."

The younger turtle threw his brother a glare that normally could only come from the hot-head of the family while subconsciously rubbing his bandage. "How much trouble do you think I could get into here?"

As he was about to answer, Leonardo suddenly stiffened.

"What is it?" Donatello hissed, reaching for his bo.

"We aren't alone."

"Well done, my dear Leonardo. You are indeed correct."

The two turtles spun around, both withdrawing their weapons. Both Touch and Go were standing on top of a large junk heap, silhouetted against the orange sky.

"How did you find us?" Leonardo demanded, pointing one katana at the two assassins while stepping in front of his younger brother.

"Oh, that is not important," Mr. Go shrugged nonchalantly. "What _is_ important is this: we have found you and this time our employer will have exactly what he wants."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"My dear Donatello, what that means is that the two of you shall be coming with us."

"And if we refuse?" Leonardo pulled his katana into a defensive stance.

"I am afraid that you have no choice, little turtle men." Behind the assassins, three more figures, dressed in full armor, appeared and pointed their blasters at the turtles. Others appeared on top of other piles while some stepped out from behind larger pieces of debris. They were surrounded.

"Bishop's goons," Leonardo noted quietly, feeling Donatello's shell press into his. "Still mad at me for following you?"

* * *

_Kissaki--the curved tip of a katana blade  
Tsuka--the hilt_

* * *

_(Ducks behind gigantic shield) Please don't come after me with pointy weapons! Instead, why don't you use all that energy to review? Flames will be used to make me actually want to do homework._


	7. Upon the Brink

_A/N: Hi, everyone! For those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, Happy Turkey Day (belatedly)! Sorry it took me a bit longer than normal. It's really funny how writing assinments suck every desire to write right out of your body and spit it into some dark abyss. Anyway, thank you all so very much!_

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue**

* * *

"I'm going to try to distract them and then when I give the signal, we'll make a break for the manhole and then lose them in the sewers," Leonardo whispered.

"Got it." Donatello hissed back tersely.

They both knew that plan would be easier said than done as their escape route was right behind a wall of soldiers. A sudden movement caught Donatello's eye and he looked down at his plastron. It was covered in red spots, each dancing slightly as the soldiers moved in closer.

"So Bishop's the 'new employer' you two mentioned last time we met." Leonardo glared at the Frenchmen. "I didn't think assassinations were his thing."

"I already told you, my dear Leonardo," Mr. Go laughed, spinning his cane so fast that the ruby pommel seemed like little more than a fiery circle. "You both are going to come with us. _Alive_."

"Of course our benevolent Mr. Bishop did not specify exactly how 'alive' he wished for you to be," Mr. Touch added with a malevolent smirk.

With a growl, Leonardo shifted the grip on his katana; his foot shifted forwards.

"Hold it right there, freaks." The speaker, obviously an officer, cocked his gun.

"Now, Don!" The two turtles sprung apart and began to run towards the soldiers that stood between them and their escape, dodging and deflecting the laser blasts that immediately sped towards them.

With an expert twist of his bo, Donatello knocked the guns out of three of the soldiers hands and then knocked them down with a well placed spin-kick. More soldiers rushed him, leery of getting within range of the turtle's staff. In a matter of seconds, Donatello was surrounded. A Michelangelo-like cocky grin suddenly spread across his face as he sprung up and used his bo like a pole to vault over the soldier's heads, landing for a brief moment on top of a helmet before continuing on without looking back at the man he had just felled.

In a flash, he was silhouetted against the night sky, surrounded by a glow of blue beams of light that somehow never managed to touch him. And then the turtle landed. Men flew backwards as the wooden staff crashed into them, splitting through the ranks, carving a path like Moses at the Red Sea. It took him only seconds to reach the manhole cover.

Suddenly, he ducked as a body flew over his head. "Leo, watch it!"

"Sorry, Don." The older turtle ducked low as the butt of a gun sailed over his head. Unable to maneuver the katana to disable the man without harming himself, Leonardo slammed his elbow into the soldier's kneecap. The man fell down onto his other knee, screaming and clutching the injured leg.

The other soldiers did not give Leonardo a second of leeway.

A blue shot ricocheted off of the shiny blade, barely noticed as it swung around at an incredible speed, slicing down enemies on both sides. After a moment of heavy injury, the soldiers backed away from the turtle.

Before they could blink, several soldiers found that their guns were sliced in two and then their quarry disappeared right before their eyes.

"Sirs! We've lost him!"

Mr. Go growled slightly and flipped down off of the mountain of garbage; Mr. Touch followed closely behind, sending rubbish flying in all directions as he slid down.

"You, Group five, subdue Donatello. The rest of you, find Leonardo."

"Yes, sir!" An officer ran towards the soldiers engaging the purple-clad turtle. "Men, time for maneuver number twelve!"

A soldier tried to jump-tackle Donatello, but the turtle merely stepped out of the way, using his bo to smack the man's rear as he stumbled past. That momentary distraction left the turtle's left side exposed and a blast of energy slammed into his injured arm. With a cry of pain, Donatello dropped his bo and clutched his arm. Instantly, several blaster barrels were pressed against his torso and head.

The turtle held stock still.

"Sirs," the officer called out, "we have secured the terrapin creature."

"Well done, my dear Lieutenant Byron. Very soon our little enterprise shall be completed. We shall soon find the other little turtle man. Is that not right, Mr. Touch?"

"Indeed it is, Mr. Go." The behemoth of a man stepped around a pile of garbage and out of sight. Mr. Go followed suit as the remaining soldiers spread out through the junkyard. Even though they were unseen, the movements of the searchers rang out through the night.

One of the soldiers left guarding Donatello pressed his gun harder against the turtle's carapace. "Don't even think about moving, freak."

"Does it look like I have a choice?" Donatello grumbled, beginning to feel rather annoyed at Leonardo for leaving him in such a situation.

That annoyance dissipated immediately as one of the soldiers gasped and jerked his chin towards a shadow. Two white, pupil-less eyes stared out of the darkness. In a flash, half of the soldiers flew back, providing enough distraction for Donatello to take care of the remaining four.

"You okay, Donnie?"

"Took you long enough, but fine." The younger turtle picked up his staff. "They managed to nick me, but it doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Good." Leonardo glanced around anxiously. "Let's get moving before they realize what happened and come back."

"Oh, I'm afraid it's too late for that, my dear little turtle men."

Leonardo swore under his breath as the Frenchmen stepped out from behind a beat-up car. "Stupid turtle luck."

"Luck?" Mr. Go laughed. "No, we simply figured that you would try some sort of action to rescue your brother. After all, that is your _habitude_. Besides, I have not yet had the opportunity to thank you for your parting gift from the last we met." The smaller man rubbed along a still-red welt that streaked along the side of his face. He became a blur and it was all that Leonardo could do to bring up his swords to block the cane.

Shock waves rang through Donatello's arms as Mr. Touch's fists slammed into the bo he held over his head. He groaned under the weight that the glowing hands were exerting. Finally unable to stand any more, the turtle released the block and rolled out of the way as the fists slammed down into the ground, creating a small crater.

Every blow of his katana that Leonardo swung at Mr. Touch was easily, almost effortlessly, blocked. Much to his relief, though, it seemed like the assassin was not trying to use any offensive moves and he was managing to push the man back slightly.

All of a sudden, that changed.

Mr. Go leapt up, landed lightly on the tip of one of the katana, and ran along the length of it until his foot slammed into the turtle's face. Leonardo stumbled backwards as Mr. Go used the momentum to backflip away. The turtle barely had a second to recover before the man knocked him back with another kick. Somersaulting backwards, Leonardo jumped back up and dashed back towards the man, their weapons locking as they each tried to push the other's out of the way.

A sudden grunt caught the older turtle's attention and he gasped as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Donatello caught in a bear hug. Not daring to allow himself to be distracted from his own battle, Leonardo pushed even harder against Mr. Go's cane while simultaneously sweeping his foot behind the man and quickly pulling it back. Caught off balance, Mr. Go faltered backwards, creating just the opening Leonardo was looking for. A swift push sent the man crashing to the ground, two sword tips pressed lightly into his neck and a foot firmly placed on his chest.

"Now I'm only going to tell you this once," Leonardo growled, not taking his eyes off of his captive. "Let my brother go or your partner will lose his head."

Donatello squirmed in Mr. Touch's arms, not feeling the pressure lessen even a bit. The man suddenly started and let the turtle drop to the ground. Donatello grabbed his bo and hurried to Leonardo's side.

"Get into the sewers, Don. I'll be right there."

"But-"

"_GO!_"

The younger turtle recognized the order with a nod and a sigh. After prying up the cover, he dropped down through the manhole, landing in the ankle-high water with barely a splash.

"So what now, Leonardo?" Mr. Go grunted as the turtle's foot bore down on his lungs.

"Now you are both going to stay here and not come after us."

"And what would happen if we should, say, refuse?"

"Then next time it's going to be more than your cheek that is cut," the turtle replied, his voice colder than ice. To his surprise, his captive smiled.

"I am sorry, my dear turtle man, but you will not find that you have the opportunity to do so. This shall be the last time we meet."

A chuckle escaped from Mr. Touch's lips, causing Leonardo to glance over at him.

"Good bye, Mr. Leonardo."

* * *

_habitude--French for 'habit' (Thanks to FF Demon for correcting from 'tenue de cheval' which apparently means 'horse's clothes'.)_

* * *

_Please review! Flames will be used to help me study._


	8. Where it all Begins

_A/N: Sorry about the wait, guys. I sort of droped off the face of the Earth for a bit. Anway, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and especially to Willowfly and FF Demon for their help with corrections for the last chapter_._ Enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I own neither TMNT nor Pinky and the Brain**

* * *

The turtle's eyes followed where the giant man was pointing, slightly lifting the tips of his katana from Mr. Go's throat. Taking advantage of the distraction, Mr. Go rolled away from the turtle. In that instant, two blue bolts slammed into Leonardo's shoulder, sending the electric equivalent of three Tasers coursing through his body.

Twin katana clattered harmlessly upon the dirt.

Mr. Touch pulled Mr. Go to his feet and the smaller man brushed off his suit that had somehow remained immaculate. "That was much closer than I would have cared for."

"Indeed, my dear Mr. Touch." The smaller man looked down at Leonardo's unconscious form. "Nonetheless, I should have expected as much from this one after our most recent encounter."

Bishop's commandos began to step out from behind various piles of junk. One of the soldiers who was first to arrive at the assassins' side stared uneasily down at Leonardo. "Is it dead, sirs?"

One of the turtle's fingers twitched.

"Does that answer your question, private?" a lieutenant answered. "Get this specimen packaged and ready for delivery, men."

"I trust that our secondary plan has also been carried out. Is that so?"

"Yes, sirs," the lieutenant replied, saluting Touch and Go. "There are several retrieval squads in the sewers now."

"Good," Mr. Go smiled. "We certainly would not want for our primary target to escape."

No one seemed to notice as shadow moved just inside the nearby manhole. Donatello dropped down from the ladder, landing almost silently in the sludge below, his inner voice filling his mind with vocabulary that Raphael would have been proud of. _Damnit, there's too many for me to take on alone. There's no way that I can get Leo out of that._

_**Call for backup,**_ the panicked side of his mind screamed out.

_I can't risk that,_ the rational side replied. _Not with those squads down here. With our luck, they would be right in front of our front door and we can't lose our home again._

_**Then turn around and go back up there! We can't leave Leo in Bishop's hands. He'll kill him!**_

_If we go back, we'll be captured too and then none of the others will know what happened to us! The best course of action is to hide until it's safe and then all go and rescue him._

_**Fine…**_

A splash behind him interrupted his inner argument and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to duck under a blue blast. With as many as were behind him, his natural instincts, fight or flight, silenced his rational mind, leading him to flee with all of his speed. The soldiers followed closely behind. The splashes of their feet slapping against the ankle-high water resonated throughout the tunnel.

Donatello ducked and dodged the blasts streaking towards him; the air tingled with power as it brushed against his face. In this portion of the sewers, there were no side tunnels leading into the main passage and little to give cover to a desperate turtle. Suddenly, his feet made their first sound of the night as they skidded to a stop. Several more commandos were in front of him, each with a blaster pointed directly at him.

He was surrounded.

Again.

"Damn you," he growled, his eyes darting around frantically looking for an escape. "By the way, I wouldn't shoot if I was you. There's so many of you on each side of me that if I dodge, you will end up hitting one of your company."

"That's true, freak, but that wasn't our plan anyway. NOW!" Several of the guns pointed downwards and fired into the water. Arcs of electricity danced lightly, almost delicately, across the surface of the sludge, belying the intensity of the power below, surging into the turtle's unprotected feet.

Muscles spasmed and gave way. The last thing Donatello saw as he lay in the sewage, eyes closing, was the rubber boots of Bishop's men coming closer to him.

* * *

_Pain…_

_Pain and a light…_

_A light…am I dead? If I was dead, would I feel pain? And wouldn't there be butterflies? _Donatello could not help but smile at himself. _Look at me, thinking about butterflies. I must be delusional or something._

"Welcome back to the real world, Donatello. You've been asleep for some time now."

The turtle's eyes snapped open, an action he immediately regretted. He closed them again, blocking out the yellow radiance that had assaulted his pupils. More slowly this time, he re-opened his eyes, allowing the yellowness to sink in.

As his vision cleared somewhat, he found himself in some sort of containment unit, looking out through the transparent yellow sides at walls full of complicated keyboards and multi-part screens. Somewhere, something was beeping softly.

Donatello turned his head slightly in order to find the source of the voice he had heard seconds before. Standing to one side was the man who unmistakably was his captor. Bishop.

"So, Donatello, how is zero Gs suiting you?"

"What? Zero Gs?" It suddenly struck the turtle that he was floating upright. "Are we in space?"

"No," Bishop adjusted his glasses, "though I am surprised that you are only now noticing."

"It's kind of hard to notice that sort of thing when you're unconscious," the turtle retorted from behind clenched teeth. "Anyway, if we aren't in space, what on Earth is going on?"

Bishop put his hand against the yellow barrier and smiled with what almost seemed to be pride. "This is a little device that we 'borrowed' from Federation files without them knowing, though it took us a while to develop the parts with Earth's limited technology. It's called a Natural Activity Restriction Field, or the NARF."

"NARF?" Donatello struggled to not laugh as a memory of Michelangelo's infatuation with Pinky and the Brain burst into his mind. A single glance at Bishop quelled his humor. "So why am I here, Bishop? Dissection again or you just feel like showing this thing off? And where's Leo?"

"You certainly are full of questions. Leonardo is perfectly safe so long as he behaves. As for why you're here," he chuckled, "now that _would_ be telling. Simply be assured that I do not intend to let you die just yet. What a waste that would be for my research."

"Your research?"

"Of course. Now I suggest you get some rest in the last two hours of night." Bishop turned on his heals and walked out of the room.

* * *

Leonardo rubbed his shoulder which was still sore from the blasts. It had been bound and treated—he could smell the light stench of antibiotic ointment.

The room around him was completely white; not even a door or window broke the solid whiteness of the walls that seemed to meld with the glowing ceiling. The only interruption was where the walls intersected with the floor at a sharp angle. Even a careful examination of the walls and floor did not reveal any form of escape.

No matter where he was in the room, Leonardo could not help but feel exposed. The only consolation was the notable absence of Donatello. _I sure hope he got back safe. _

"I'm glad to find you awake, Leonardo."

The turtle looked up as Bishop suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Nice hologram. Afraid to come in here yourself?"

Bishop raised one eyebrow. "That is not the case, turtle. I simply did not want to come in as it is a bit of a hassle."

"My family won't be coming for me, if that's what you're hoping for."

"It doesn't matter one way or the other," the hologram shrugged. "I really don't have any immediate use for your vermin father or your two brothers."

Leonardo could feel his stomach sinking down to the very soles of his feet.

"I see you are getting my meaning."

"Where is Donatello?"

Bishop smiled smugly. "I'm not going to tell you."

"What?!"

"It's simple strategy, really. In a group that relies on one another so much, the best way weaken the members of that group is to keep them from each other."

"I swear, Bishop, if you so much as touch him, I'll—"

"You'll what? You can't get out and you don't know where he is. Don't make me laugh with your empty threats, Leonardo." Having said that, the hologram disappeared.

* * *

_So there you have it. Please tell me what you think! Flames will be used to warm my feet!_


	9. Seeing Double

_A/N: Hi, everyone. Firstly, thank you all for reviewing and also for being so patient with me I'm sorry this kept you waiting. I meant for it to come out last month, but between school, work, and deserting plot bunnies, it didn't happen. Anyway, hope you enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: Even after all this time, I still don't own any more than plot bunnies that keep disappearing on me.**

* * *

Master Splinter's eyes snapped open, bringing him out of his meditative trance with a sudden jolt. His lids fell back over his pupils, but he could not get his mind to regain its former quiet. A strange sensation had settled into the pit of his stomach. Before he could become concerned about it, though, his belly began to emit a rumbling sound. With a small sigh, he stood up off the _tatami_, wincing slightly as his bones creaked in protest. _Perhaps I should accept Donatello's offer to build me a higher spot for meditation—one which would be easier to get up from._

He stretched, smiling slightly with satisfaction as several small pops sounded, relieving the tension from lengthy meditation. A few more cracks came from his back as he picked up his cane. The burnished dragon seemed to meld into his hand as he walked forwards.

As he entered the entertainment area, he could not help but smile at seeing his youngest son sprawled out across the sofa, snoring to his heart's content; Klunk was curled up in the middle of the turtle's plastron, his face a look of complete bliss as he rose and fell with Michelangelo's breathing. Only one of the screens was on, softly reporting the morning news. The rat lifted one eyebrow as he saw who was watching.

"Did you get no sleep last night?"

Raphael shrugged with a small grunt. His eyes looked tired. "Don ain't come back from the junkyard yet."

"Ah, I see." Splinter looked around, his spirit searching for presences. "And, did Leonardo go with him?"

"Yeah. He's been _way_ overprotective, well, more than normal, ever since those two ba—" he caught himself as his master raised an eyebrow, "since Touch and Go showed up. 'Specially with Don."

"And so you worry about them both?"

"I dunno…Guess I just don't like not bein' there watchin' their backs."

"Such a feeling is admirable, my son." The rat smiled gently, giving Raphael's shoulder a soft squeeze. "Try to get some rest before our day begins. I will wait for your brothers."

"Hai, Sensei."

As his son reached for the remote control, Master Splinter hobbled towards the kitchen. Several minutes later, he was sipping appreciatively from a cup of green tea, allowing the luscious steam to rise and float around his muzzle. The warmth soothed the aches in his hands. Yet even in this moment of quiet, something was gnawing at the back of his mind.

There was something that was not right; something had happened.

* * *

Donatello was faintly aware of the dim light becoming brighter, drawing him out of the fitful doze he had slipped into. A low grumbling accosted his eardrums. Opening his eyes slightly, he searched for the source of the sound. A robotic creature surrounded by a hologram was booting up several pieces of machinery. The soft clicking rattled torturously in the turtle's caffeine-deprived brain and was not relieved by the scientist's incessant muttering.

"Why do I have to be the one to deal with this creature so early in the morning when Bishop is nowhere to be found? Here I am, my intelligence ratings off the charts, and I'm stuck with these menial tasks!"

Donatello wished he could cover his ears, but his arms felt too heavy, too tired. He settled, instead, on a glare.

"I should be comfortably settled within my bed, but nooooo. It's always 'Stockman, do this piece of dirty work,' 'Stockman, run that machine,' 'Stockman, figure this out.' I do all the work around here and never get any of the credit. That ignoramus megalomaniac!"

Donatello was almost glad as the door hissed open and Bishop entered, ending the disembodied scientist's spiel.

"Good morning, Donatello." He nodded to the captive. "Problems, Doctor?"

Stockman's face clearly showed his surprise before clouding over nearly instantaneously. "I wish you'd spend some of the effort you're putting into this project to build my body already."

"We've been over this already, Doctor. Your brain still hasn't recovered completely from your last attempt at a body."

Stockman huffed, about to protest, when Bishop cut him off.

"Have experiment three dash forty-two sent in. We are starting now."

Stockman typed something into one of the computers. A far-off beep answered him followed by the soft clanking of well-oiled machinery. Moments later, a large canister, filled with glowing ooze, appeared in the corner of Donatello's vision. It was set down with a low thump. The ground under it began to move, bringing it closer to the computers. A dark mass bumped around gently inside of it.

"Donatello, may I introduce you to experiment three dash forty-two."

Bishop pressed a button on the container and a tube sprouted from the container's bottom, joining with an almost invisible drain in the floor. The liquid oozed out slowly, revealing an olive dome followed by a terrapin body, laced with familiar markings and scars.

Donatello felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. "You cloned me," he said flatly. "You brought me and Leo all the way here just to show off?"

Stockman snorted in the background, but Bishop did not even glance at him.

"In all of the years that we have had dealings with each other, since when would I ever use my resources for something so foolish? It's not quite that simple." He gestured to the limp clone. "You see, his body is completely identical to yours, down to the very last scar. Of course, it wasn't until my newest agents collected your most recent blood sample that I was able to do this."

"So that's why Mr. Go seemed to be targeting me in the end. That sword-cane of his was actually a sample gatherer."

"Very good, though that is exactly what I would have expected from you."

"Then why the shell am I here?"

"As I said, this body is an exact replica of you that we were able to piece together, primarily because we had the most DNA samples from you out of all your brothers." The man adjusted his tie. "However, while he has your body, he doesn't have your brain, and that is the missing piece. If you would flip the switch, my good doctor."

With almost inaudible mutterings, Stockman complied. A helmet-like device began to lower over Donatello's head.

"What are you doing? What's this thing?" Donatello tried to move his head out of the way, tried to block the device with his arms, but his muscles refused to respond.

"The NARF only prevents living matter, such as yourself, from moving. This memory-analyzer, being completely non-living, can move any way I choose."

"This won't work," Donatello growled, his forehead starting to drip nervously as the helmet settled completely down, blocking his vision. "I've dealt with these before during the Tricereton invasion and I know how to block them."

"My dear turtle," Bishop's voice smiled, "the Tricereton's scans were crude devices. This Utromium technology is much more advanced. Everything that you know is already being transferred to experiment three dash forty-two's memory. He will be exactly like you in every way."

Donatello was beginning to become nauseous. His ears were buzzing. "Aside from you being a complete mad scientist, why?"

"You and your brothers have managed to defeat every enemy you've encountered, be it the Triceretons, the Utrom Shredder, or the Federation. You have even interfered with my own operations innumerous times. If I could create an army of you turtles, controlled by myself and my generals, Earth would be invincible."

A faint pinging sound started up and the helmet lifted slowly off of Donatello's head. The room seemed to spin around him as though he was tumbling head-over-heels. The clone looked peaceful, as though he was in a deep sleep. Bishop was stroking the side of the container proudly.

"He is now completely you. He doesn't know he's a clone. The only difference is the obedience code we programmed into his mind, and that will not even be used unless necessary."

"And now what, Bishop?" the turtle demanded, trying to push down the rage that was starting to bubble up from inside. "Your little game over?"

"Hardly." He pushed up his glasses. "Didn't you wonder why this clone has all of your scars when they would actually only serve to hinder him? To tell the truth, this is the only one of your clones like this. Experiment three dash forty-three's skin is as clear as a baby's."

"Fine," Donatello spat, "why does this one have scars?"

"Every good scientist will put his invention to the test under the most strenuous circumstances where it will be placed under the most scrutiny. In this case, your family."

* * *

_A/N: Please don't hit me! Instead, use that energy to review! Flames will be used to sooth my sore feet (seriously, why did heels have to become part of the dress code?!)_


	10. Erosion

_OMG, I am SO sorry! To tell the honest truth, I totally forgot about writing. Terrible, I know. You can yell at me if you want... Since I'm in a bit of a hurry to put this up, I apologize for any mistakes since I haven't had my brother beta it for me like he normally does.  
Thank you everyone who've been so patient with me and thank you all for you kind reviews. And now, after WAY too long of a wait, here's the next chapter._

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

* * *

Leonardo took a deep breath, trying to center himself, but his normal ability to meditate seemed infinitely far away. There was a click and he started as he felt the floor slowly dropping down beneath him. His eyes flew open and he looked up. The white ceiling was creeping away at a regular rate. _So that's why there's no door. This room is, essentially, an elevator._

An outline, stark against the whiteness, was rising up from the floor and moments later showed itself to be a door. Leonardo stood up from the lotus position, balling his fists, ready for anything.

With a 'whoosh,' the door slid open, revealing three guards, each with their blasters trained on the turtle. Leonardo almost wanted to laugh. Even with their guns, there was no way that they could outmatch him in combat. But before he could act, several more guards appeared, dragging a limp form, while even more guarded it with their blasters. The turtle's eyes widened as he realized what the shape was.

"Don't move, freak, or this one gets it."

The guards hurled their burden forwards. The moment it landed, the door whooshed shut and the elevator began to rise back up to its original height.

"Don, are you okay?" Leonardo kneeled down and shook the other turtle's shoulder.

He got no response.

Forcing himself to not panic, the older turtle groped around his brother's neck, breathing a sigh of relief as he found a slow but steady pulse. He wrinkled his beak. "What did they do to you, Don? Dip you in formaldehyde? You smell awful."

"So-rry." Donatello's body shifted under his brother's hands, forcing open heavy-lidded eyes. His voice was labored.

Leonardo couldn't decide whether to smile that his brother was awake or to frown at the strangeness of his voice. "Are you hurt?"

"M' okay."

"Are you sure? Something seems off."

"M' okay," Donatello insisted again, his voice weaker this time. "They drugged me. Just…need…rest. Sleep it…off."

"If you say so, bro." Leonardo frowned as the younger turtle's eyes closed.

* * *

"Leo, you idiot, that's not me!" Donatello yelled for what seemed the hundredth time. On the other side of the video screen, the eldest turtle was carefully examining the clone's body, obviously looking for any sign of injury.

"Funny, isn't it." Bishop leaned back from in a desk chair, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

"It's not funny, you psychopath!"

"I mean that it is certainly interesting that even one's own family can't tell a real you compared to a fake. Really, it shows just how little they really know you."

Donatello glared at him and then stared hopelessly at the monitor.

* * *

Raphael took his normal rout down the stairs—skipping them completely and landing with a quiet 'thump' on the brick floor. He stretched his shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen, wrinkling his beak at the strong smell of herbal tea.

Splinter was in his normal seat at the table, cradling a small teacup, apparently lost in thought. After a grunt of greeting, Raphael pulled a box of his favorite cereal and a bowl out of the cupboard. He glanced at the time on the microwave. Two hours had passed since his master had sent him to bed.

"They still ain't back?"

"No, I am afraid not."

The turtle muttered obscenities under his breath, choosing to ignore Splinter's warning look. "Somethin' ain't right, Sensei. They would'a called if they were gonna be out real late. 'Sides, it's light outside by now!"

"That is so. Their disappearance concerns me greatly. Could you please telephone them?"

Raphael slapped himself on the forehead. He had forgotten about the Shell Cells. "Be right back, Sensei." He shoved in another spoonful of cereal and rushed out of the room.

Moments later, Michelangelo walked into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder with a funny look on his face. "'Morning, Sensei. What's with Raph?" He noticed the empty seats at the table. "Where is everyone?"

Master Splinter stared down into his teacup as though the steaming black liquid would provide him answers. "I am afraid that Leonardo and Donatello did not return home last night. Raphael has gone to try to call them."

"Leo, damnit, pick up the friggin' phone!"

Both of the mutants in the kitchen looked towards the door, startled, as Raphael paced past. There was a small crash followed by a moment of silence. Raphael stormed back into the kitchen. His face was black, but his phone was still to his ear.

"I'm callin' Case and if he ain't seen 'em, I'm going looking for 'em."

* * *

Leonardo remained knelt by Donatello's side. He had checked his brother over several times, but there was still something nagging in the back of his mind. He placed his hand on his brother's plastron, rubbing gently, tracing the familiar scars, taking refuge in the gentle breathing.

With a sigh, he stood up and began to pace, his eyes searching for any signs of controls for the moving floor. The walls were still as smooth as every other time he had searched them.

Leonardo rubbed his eyes. The whiteness was overpowering. He knelt back down at Donatello's side.

"I will get you out. Then we'll fix everything. We'll find some way, I promise."

"I know." Donatello's eyes opened slightly. With Leonardo's help, he sat up, rubbing his head. He smiled slightly.

* * *

Donatello's head throbbed.

Bishop and Stockman had decided to ignore him, focusing instead on a variety of status monitors apparently directly connected with the clone.

"Vitals are holding and the speech analysis is done."

"Good." Bishop pulled a screen closer and read the data. "Speech patterns seem to match that of the subject, but we'll need more input before it can be completely decided. Any information about cognitive ability yet?"

"Not yet," Stockman replied, faintly annoyed. "There's not enough information. It hasn't _done_ anything yet."

"Patience, my good doctor." A smile toyed with the edges of Bishop's mouth.

Donatello's head throbbed again.

"We will now begin Operation Field-test."

_Throbbing…_

"Watch the monitors. I will return momentarily."

Stockman grumbled as the door closed behind Bishop. "He's always so wrapped up in his pet projects, damn him."

_Throbbing…_

"What's so special about you freaks anyway?" He walked away from the consol, looking like he was about to throw something. An evil smirk spread across the hologram. "I've never forgotten how you turtles destroyed everything, everything I worked for, countless times."

Donatello scowled at him. "Every time you put innocent lives in danger, we'll stop you."

"Big talk for a test specimen. _You _always were the most troublesome."

_Throbbing…_

The scientist let out a half-crazed laugh. "Bishop's not here to protect you now."

_So much throbbing..._

* * *

_A/N: Please review! Flames will be used to make me want to do my homework._


	11. Ignition

_A/N: Hello, everyone! It certainly has been a while. Thank you all for the very sweet reviews. I promise, I'll do my best to get my butt in gear and read all of those chapters that have been piling up in my inbox. Anyway, so much has happened lately. I graduated from college with my AA in American Sign Language Interpreting and am transferring to a university in the fall. Also, the weather's been the weirdest I've ever seen here. In my neck of the woods, it _never_ rains from mid-May through late October, but there's been thunderstorms and rain for the past several days. Total weirdness. Well, I'm sure you're not really interested in all of that, so enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

The room around Leonardo and the Donatello clone began to vibrate softly, bringing with it the faint sense of being lowered down.

"Don," Leonardo whispered, hoping that no microphones were picking up his voice, "can you move?"

In response, the other turtle began to try to stand up. Leonardo leapt up, catching him as he began to fall forwards. "Don't strain yourself bro."

"Sorry, just a little dizzy." Donatello straightened himself, reeling unsteadily before he was caught again. He rubbed between his eyes where his mask should have been. "Damn…"

The elevator slowed to a halt. Leonardo stepped between the doorway and his pseudo-brother. "Stay behind me, Donnie. We might be able to make a break for it."

The clone staggered forwards. "I dunno, Leo…"

"Remember when we were kids? I promised you that I'd get you back home even if it meant that I had to carry you. You know how I hate to break a promise."

The clone frowned for a moment before covering it up with a small smirk. He could not remember any such promise. Thankfully, before he could respond, the cell doors slid open and Bishop strode in accompanied by three guards. A small number of other guards could be seen just outside of the elevator-cell.

"What's the matter, Bishop?" Leonardo growled, suddenly feeling vulnerable without his katana. He settled for clenched fists instead. "This too important for a hologram?"

Bishop only smiled in his serenely irritating way, pushing his dark glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "More tests must be run." He seemed to not notice the two turtles inching slowly closer towards the door. "The time that I have allowed you to see each other has been more than generous, but my research is still incomplete. Move away from Donatello immediately."

"Never," Leonardo growled.

"Your turn will come soon enough. Men!" Bishop motioned towards the door and four guards hurried to his side. Even through their dark visors, it was obvious that they were nervous. "Bring that one to me and make sure that the other does not interfere."

As they came closer, Leonardo took a step backwards, closer to Donatello. "How are you feeling, Don?"

"Not one-hundred percent, but I can function."

"Good. Just follow my lead."

Without another word, Leonardo leapt up and knocked over the soldiers with two consecutive kicks. He grabbed the clone's wrist and pulled him towards the door only for Bishop to dart between them and escape. Leonardo dashed towards him and pushed his brother beyond the man while blocking Bishop's punch. Donatello stumbled forwards through the door.

"Go, Don! I'll catch up in a sec, I promise!"

"But—"

"GO!"

The eldest turtle allowed himself a brief sigh of relief, barely dodging Bishop's foot as it sailed over his head, while insuring out of the corner of his eye that Donatello had made it safely out.

"You shouldn't make promises that you won't be able to keep, turtle."

Leonardo raised his arm, blocking Bishop's punch, and slammed his fist into the man's shoulder. Bishop tottered back slightly.

"I always keep my promises."

Bishop charged at Leonardo while yanking off his necktie. He blocked the turtle's double-dragon punch with ease. With a swift turn, he managed to wrap the thin strip of fabric around Leonardo's ankle as it came up for a side-kick.

A brief pause in movement.

Leonardo smirked.

His supporting leg shot up and around, catching Bishop squarely in the head, cracking his dark glasses. Bishop fell to the side as though stunned, allowing Leonardo to free his leg. Shaking his head slightly, Bishop jumped back up, throwing the glasses to one side. He was now directly between the turtle and the still-open door.

Leonardo came at him in a dead sprint and flipped up over Bishop's head. The turtle's feet pushed off of Bishop's back, sending him somersaulting out through the door while Bishop crashed into the wall on the other side of the cell. Leonardo's fist slammed into the control panel next to the door. The door _whooshed_ shut as Bishop ran towards it.

Leonardo's eyes darted around, searching for his brother. Several guards lay unconscious along the hallway. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm began to trill.

"Great. Just great."

The turtle took a deep breath and hurried down the hall. As he rounded a corner, he almost tripped over a prostrate guard. Another was sinking down a wall as though just hit, but Leonardo did not really care. He ran to the Donatello clone who was down on all fours in the middle of the hall.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Tired…so very tired…" Sweat was forming on his green dome.

Leonardo swore lightly under his breath and turned to the man slouched against the wall. Unceremoniously, he ripped the soldier's helmet off. Bleary, scared eyes stared up at the turtle's face.

"Please don't kill me! I've got a wife and kids!"

"What's the fastest way out of here?"

"T-that way. Just keep going up."

"Got it. Thanks." Leonardo turned back around and pulled Donatello's arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Don. Hang in there."

He started forwards, half supporting, half dragging his brother's clone along with him.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Donatello gasped for breath as the electricity left his body. Not enough to kill, but…

Stockman cackled. "I'll make sure you know the pain you freaks put me though." He adjusted a knob on the side of the NARF. "Endless pain, endless suffering, without any hope that it will stop!" The scientist's voice grew louder and louder. "I will make you drink from the same cup that I did!"

Donatello's bones rattled together as a guttural scream escaped through his dry throat. Blue arcs danced between his fingertips. Alarms started to blare as his vitals reached dangerous levels.

"STOCKMAN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

The cyborg body was flung across the room and the electricity once more drained out of Donatello's body. The alarms stopped one by one as his vitals began to return to normal levels.

"A human soul can't live long without a body, Stockman! Do you want me to test how long yours can survive?"

_Throbbing, even more intensely than before..._

Slipping for a moment into consciousness, Donatello managed to open his eyes. He could dimly see Bishop holding Stockman by the throat. The scientist's robotic body was crawling with electricity from the video screen he was pressed into.

"Don't EVER do anything like that again or I will send you straight to Hell!"

The turtle slipped back out of consciousness.

_Throbbing…body, shifting…_

Donatello moaned. It felt like something was calling to him from someplace deep inside. Something wild, feral.

Alarms started to scream again.

_Throbbing, shifting, moving, changing…_

Donatello opened his eyes. All was red.

* * *

_Please review! Flames will be used to bake cookies :)_


	12. Erosion: Battle Remix

_A/N: Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for reviewing :) I'm slowly catching up on reviewing everyone else's fics, but my inbox says I still have 82 left to go so sorry if I haven't gotten to yours yet. (This is what I get for taking such a long break...facepalm) Anyway, enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, we wouldn't be having to put up with the BTTS crap**

* * *

Bishop pushed Stockman away as alarms began to blaze again. The robot body spun around several times before collapsing in a heap. Bishop ran to the NARF's control panel, growling as Donatello's vital measurements showed to be dancing all over the place.

"Damn it, Stockman!"

He pushed a button, bringing a keyboard out of a slot. Typing furiously, several tubes snaked their way towards the unconscious turtle. Glancing up for a moment, Bishop's eyes widened.

Donatello's eyes had opened; they were glowing red.

The turtle's body began to convulse as muscles bulged in ways that they should not. Something seemed to be crawling quickly, desperately, through the green body.

"What the hell?" Stockman picked himself up off the floor.

"Doctor, get the outbreak antidote and do it quickly."

"But—"

"NOW, Stockman!"

The android spun around, tripping over his own legs, and hurried out of the room. As Donatello's body grew larger, Bishop pulled out a comlink. "Touch, Go, get to the lab immediately."

Donatello let out a terrifying guttural cry, making Bishop unconsciously step backwards. The mutating turtle's arms and legs strained against the NARF's influence. Yet another warning alarm began to sound as Donatello began to move. Suddenly, as though ropes had snapped off of him, the turtle hurtled forwards, slamming into the yellow barrier. The entire device shook violently.

Mr. Touch and Mr. Go rushed into the room just as Donatello's claws raked against the barrier with an ear-piercing screech. All three men winced and covered their ears.

The turtle began to hurl himself at the long scratches. Cracks burst out from the marks with every hit.

"Restraining and sedating him is our top priority. We must absolutely not allow him to escape!"

"Understood." Mr. Touch slammed his fists together, causing them to glow. Mr. Go spun his cane around.

For a brief, tense moment, no one moved. Then, with a mighty crash, Donatello broke through the barrier and leapt out into the room.

* * *

The summer's humidity had finally given way to a full-fledged thunderstorm. Lightning snaked across the sky, briefly showing the three figures dashing across the rooftops. Most sane individuals had taken refuge inside and those that had not darted from overhang to overhang, tightly clutching jackets and umbrellas.

"Come on, Case. Keep up."

"Well exc_uuuu_se me for bein' waterlogged. I've gotta wear clothes, 'member?"

"Just come on."

Casey's eyes opened wide under his hockey mask. He had never heard Michelangelo so serious ever before. "Look, we'll find them. It'll be okay."

"But what if it isn't?" Michelangelo skidded to a halt. "What if something really awful happened to them?" He waved his hands frantically.

"Nuthin's _gonna_ happen." Raphael walked back to the others and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. His eyes flashed grimly, reflecting the lightning above. "I don't care if we've gotta search this entire damned city, we're gonna find 'em and bring 'em back with us."

"But what if it's like last time, when the Shredder found Leo, and…and…" His voice hitched.

"That's why we're out lookin', goofball." Raphael squeezed his brother's shoulder, then turned away. "Now come on, we've got more ground to cover."

Biting his lower lip, the youngest turtle wiped what he pretended to be rain away from his eye and started running across the rooftop's wet gravel, closely followed by his brother and Casey.

Several rooftops later, Michelangelo slowed again. "Look, it's the water tower that Master Splinter used to always tell us to meet at if we got lost out here when we were little."

"Thank god," a voice said softly under the tower, almost lost in the rain. A lumpy shadow detached itself from behind one of the posts.

"Leo?" All three searchers rushed forwards.

"LEO, LEO, LEO!" A huge smile bounded across Michelangelo's face but it was soon replaced with concern as soon as he could clearly see his brothers.

Leonardo smiled slightly, relieved, as he dragged Donatello's limp form with him. Both were sporting fresh bruises and Leonardo's bandages were sopping. "Don's hurt, but I don't know what's wrong."

Raphael took the clone's body as Leonardo struggled under the weight. "What the shell happened to you?"

"Bishop, but I'll tell you more later." Leonardo's exhaustion was evident.

"Hey, my place is real close ta here. Why don't we go there?" Casey suggested.

"Sounds good," Raphael agreed. "Then we can call Sensei an' April an' have 'em look these two over." He glanced worriedly down at the unconscious body in his arms. "An' hopefully Don'll wake up."

* * *

Donatello swung wildly at the three men. Bishop and Mr. Go leapt out of the way, but Mr. Touch braced himself, taking the full brunt of the turtle's heavily muscled arm directly in his stomach. Grunting, he skidded backwards slightly while grabbing onto Donatello's arm.

The mutant roared.

Straining his arm, Donatello pushed Mr. Touch farther backwards. Mr. Go leapt up onto the turtle's back and swung his cane around Donatello's neck. He pulled back with all his might.

"Surrender now, or my dear Mr. Touch and I will be forced to injure you severely."

"Nooooo." Donatello's voice was gravelly, strained. Yet it startled all three men.

"So, you have retained some of your consciousness." Bishop moved slightly closer. "I was certainly right that you are a fascinating test subject."

Donatello suddenly let out an enormous smirk, showing several of his now-pointed teeth. He reached back and grabbed Mr. Go by the head.

The man screamed as the grip on his head tightened, squeezing mercilessly. The moment that the cane loosened from around his neck, Donatello yanked Mr. Go off of his back and swung him around like a whip into his partner. Unable to keep his grip on the turtle's arm, Mr. Touch flew backwards, crashing into the computer consol. Sparks flew. Milliseconds later, Mr. Go landed on top of him.

Donatello spun around to face Bishop. The man cracked his knuckles.

The turtle roared again.

Just then, the lab door opened as Stockman came back in, cradling several dart guns. Without missing a beat, Donatello charged towards the opening.

"SHUT THE DOOR!"

Instead of following Bishop's orders, Stockman took a shocked step backwards, allowing Donatello to race past him, pushing him over like a scarecrow.

"Useless moron!" Bishop rushed past the scientist, grabbing one of the guns that had scattered into the hallway. He paused for a brief moment, slamming his fist though a glass case and into a red button. Alarms blared throughout the building. As he dashed down the hallway, Touch and Go followed closely behind.

"It seems our prey has become much more interesting, don't you agree my dear Mr. Go?"

"Indeed, Mr. Touch." The smaller man wiped away a trickle of blood from his brow.

"And it is going to get even more interesting, gentlemen. We cannot allow him to get out." Bishop raised the dart gun and fired.

The dart embedded itself in Donatello's shoulder. He stumbled slightly but did not stop fleeing. Skidding around a corner, the mutant disappeared from the men's view. Seconds later, the pursuers reached the same corner.

The hallway stretched before them with several other halls branching out from it. Several soldiers were pouring in towards them, none seeming to have met up with the escaping turtle.

Donatello had disappeared.

"Damn it…"

"Sir!" A sergeant saluted. "What are your orders, sir?"

"We have a code fourteen-ninety. Subject would be best captured alive but lethal force is authorized if necessary."

"Sir, yes sir!" The soldier hurried away.

Bishop turned to the assassins. "Gentlemen, your orders are the same. Do not disappoint me."

* * *

_Please review! Flames will be used to light fireworks :)_


	13. Interlude

_A/N: Happy Independence Day to all my American friends. I must say, this has got to be my favorite holiday: rodeo yesterday (the bulls seemed to win over the cowboys most of the time) and fireworks, campfire, and smores today. Definitely great.  
Well, this is a MUCH shorter chapter than normal, but it seemed to want to be it's own and not be connected to the next chapter, so I'm posting it as is. Enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I am not a sparkle-y vampire (I get so bored with normal disclaimers ^.^)**

* * *

Water was dripping somewhere. The world was hazy and sideways, but water was definitely dripping, pooling around his ankles.

"_Donnie! Donnie, are you alright?"_

_He moaned, his body aching. He was face-down along the side of the rushing water, somehow miraculously deposited there by the rush of the storm waters._

"_Come on, bro, speak to me!"_

"_L-Leo?" Small hands rolled him over. Water dripped from the ceiling, landing on his forehead. His ankle hurt._

"_Can you sit up?"_

"_Yeah." His shell pressed against the cold cement walls. He gulped in the sewer air._

Water dripped, landing on his shoulder. It burned. His skin burned. Everything burned.

"_I can't walk any farther. It hurts too much!" He stopped, favoring his right ankle._

"_Come on, Donnie, it can't be much farther."_

"_I don't even know where we are!" A hot tear dripped._

Something splashed, sending shockwaves through the water, crashing into his legs. Bones felt like they were melting.

"_Look, bro, I'll get you home no matter what. I'll keep you safe."_

"_Promise?"_

_Ten-year-old eyes stared into his. "I promise. Even if I've gotta carry you home all by myself."_

"_Thanks, Leo."_

Strong arms lifted him up out of the sludge. Water dripped off of him. He forced his eyes back open. The person carrying him wasn't quite right. Something about the green head was just off—or was it his own eyes that weren't seeing right?

"L-Leo?"

"No, my friend, but you are safe now. I shall call your brothers after we get to my home."

"Oh. Good."

Darkness reclaimed him as the strong arms carried him away.

* * *

_So there you have it. Please review! Flames will be used to cook my marshmallows._


	14. The Floodgates Open

_A/N: Once again, I'm SO sorry for taking forever. I realize that it's been three months since the last chapter. Between being out of the country for most of August, starting at a new university, and severe writer's block (huge thanks to my friends at SewerSweetSewer for helping me get over that), I wrote very little. Hopefully I'll be able to write more quickly, but I won't be able to promise that I'll be able to post a chapter more than once a month from here on out. I knew that the University level work would be harder, but I didn't think it would be this much more so ^.^'_

_A/N2: Huge thanks to everyone for reviewing and for your patience with me!_

**Disclaimer: I own only the plot...which sometimes seems to own me instead ^_~**

* * *

Leatherhead gently set Donatello on his old, beat-up sofa and, wiping away the sweat beading across the smaller reptile's brow, checked for a fever.

"Oh, my!" Professor Honeycutt hurried over from his workstation, hovering over the side of the couch like an uncertain C-3PO. "Whatever happened to him?"

The crocodile shook his head slowly. "I cannot say for certain; this is how I found him."

Donatello shivered violently as a new line of sweat began to bubble from his skin. Leatherhead once again felt his forehead.

"His temperature is dangerously high. Professor, if you would, please fill a bucket with some cold water and bring it as well as a couple of clean cloths."

"Oh, yes, of course."

As he hurried off, Leatherhead turned to pick up the phone from the coffee table, just missing seeing the skin on Donatello's legs lurch as though making way for some giant insect inside of them.

* * *

"…and after we got out past Bishop, I closed the door on him, trapping him inside." Leonardo winced as April pulled the bandage off his shoulder. She had immediately begun her Big Sister/Mother Hen care when the turtles returned to the apartment that she and Casey shared.

"Sorry, Leo." April carefully probed around the scorched edges of the impact points. "It looks like they actually were patching you up and nothing more."

"Good." The eldest turtle sighed in relief.

"Man, I wish I coulda seen ol' sunglasses' face." Raphael smirked from where he was sitting backwards on one of Casey's dining chairs.

"Yeah, but how did Don end up like this?" Michelangelo pulled a blanket over where his unconscious brother was lying on the beat-up couch. Other than a white bandage covering a scrape on his cheek and the bandage from the cut on his arm just four days prior, Donatello _looked_ fine. No reason for his unresponsive state.

The eldest turtle frowned. "I don't know, exactly. We ran through the hallways, knocking out the soldiers as we encountered them. Come to think of it, though, it was almost too easy; not like the other times we've gotten out of Bishop's bases."

"So you got lucky," Casey shrugged. "Big deal."

"I don't know…" Leonardo trailed off then shook his head. "Anyway, we managed to get out from underground and found ourselves in the warehouse district. There wasn't any sewer access close, so we headed up to the rooftops. But after we got out of immediate danger, Don just passed out. I couldn't find any injury or anything on him, so I just carried him as far as I could and just kept hoping that you all would find us." He sighed and looked down at his hands. "But even so…"

"'Even so' what?" Raphael crossed his arms, his face souring. "I don't wanna hear no stinkin' crap about you not bein' able ta help Don any more or any of your guilt-trip shit, you got that, Fearless?"

The corners of Leonardo's mouth twitched upwards slightly. "Language, Raph. Mikey and April can hear you."

The younger of the two shot him a mild glare, almost softening as Leonardo's face grew grave once more.

"Actually, it's more of just a feeling than anything. Sort of a sixth-sense type of thing. It's weird, but I almost feel like the brother I left with isn't the brother I came back with. I don't know exactly what Bishop put him through, but something is telling me that he's going to start getting even worse."

"Even worse?" April furrowed her brows. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Yeah," Michelangelo agreed, unwilling to be left out of the conversation. "What could be worse than this?"

Leonardo mentally slapped himself for the slip of the tongue. "I-it's just that Don's been having some, er, health problems lately. He didn't want any of us to know about it so we wouldn't worry. _I_ only found out by accident."

"'Xactly what do you mean 'health problems,' Leo? And no tryin' to get outa answering me. I know yer hiding somethin'."

Leonardo stared down at his hands. _Come on, Don, wake up. I can't tell them this; I can't tell them that you're dying!_

"Leo?"

"I promised that I would keep it a secret for a year or if something happened." His voice was strained.

"I'm pretty sure this counts as somethin' happening," Casey pointed out. "I mean, he _is_ flat-out cold."

"That's true…"Leonardo did not lift his gaze from his palms.

"Come _on_, Leo!" Michelangelo whined, jumping up onto the back of the couch, right by his closest brother's head. "If something's wrong with Don, we've gotta know, bro. We're like the Mouseketeers, ya know? One for all and all for one?"

"Musketeers, Mikey, but yes, I know." Leonardo sighed, wishing for some kind of distraction to break through the interrogation.

Raphael opened his mouth to say something, but the shrill ring from his Shell Cell, as if on cue from Leonardo's wish, cut him off. With a glare saying we-will-continue-this, he answered it.

"Yo, LH, what's up?" After a moment of listening, puzzlement shot across his face. "What-d-ya mean? Don's right here, out cold on the couch!" More listening and puzzlement quickly became annoyance. "Yes, I'm sure! You can even talk with April if you want! Here!" He shoved the phone into April's hands, muttering something about drunken crocodiles.

"Hello? …. Oh yes, he's here….No, I'm very sure….What do you mean he's on your sofa?"

All eyes turned to her.

"How badly?" She continued, pursing her lips. "I see. So Splinter's on his way there?....Mmm, I'll see what we can do." Nervously, she tugged on the strand of hair dangling by her ear. "Yes, yes. Thanks for calling. See you soon."

"So is he drunk or what?" Raphael burst out as April handed the phone back to him.

"What's going on?" Michelangelo's eyes darted back and forth between the two.

April sighed. "Leatherhead said that he found Donatello passed out in the sewers, looking pretty beat up and running a high fever."

"That's impossible, Ape!" Casey slammed a fist into his open palm. "Don's already here with us."

"Yeah, dudette, there can't be _two_ of him."

"You think I don't know that?" She turned to Leonardo. "What do you think?"

The eldest turtle shrugged slightly. "To be honest, I'm not completely sure." His face darkened. "On the one hand, I don't know if we can afford to leave Don or exactly what. But on the other hand, if there are somehow two Donatellos, it could be a trap for us like when the Shredder created a robot version of Master Splinter."He slouched forwards on the chair, not looking at any of the others. "Either way, I just don't like it."

"Tell you what," April walked over and put her hand on his uninjured shoulder, squeezing slightly. "You can leave Don here with me and Casey and we'll keep an eye on him. Then you won't have anything to worry about as you guys check out this other Donatello."

"Thanks, April." Relief seemed to wash over the eldest turtle as he squeezed her hand briefly and stood. "Let's go."

* * *

As Leatherhead hung up the phone, the Professor had just brought the cloths and was starting to wipe away the beads of sweat trickling off Donatello's forehead. The turtle shuddered violently once more. As the coolness seeped into his skin, Donatello groaned hoarsely and opened his eyes a tiny crack.

"Professor?" He felt as though he had been eating sand.

"Easy now, you are with friends." Leatherhead, hearing his friend's voice, grabbed an unopened soda that he had left previously on the table, popped it open, and pressed the beverage to Donatello's lips.

The turtle could barely get down two sips before choking.

"Careful. Just relax; your family will be here soon."

All of a sudden, Donatello moaned and writhed as his muscles along his appendages began to bulge in every direction possible, his arms and legs lashing out violently.

"Quick! Hold him!" the Professor yelled as Leatherhead tried to grab Donatello's arms. "He's having a seizure!"

"N-oo" the turtle wheezed. "Antido-AAHH!!" His back almost arched, prevented only by his shell and Leatherhead's grasp. "Hurry!"

* * *

_Please review! Flames will be used to bake cookies :)_


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